


Out of Line

by coffeerepublic



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: F/M, Mild Adult Situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeerepublic/pseuds/coffeerepublic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not sorry I met you.</p><p>[underage!defendant!Joey x attorney!Reader]<br/>[AU-esque]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Investigation

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> The idea hit me and I thought it might be interesting. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. :)
> 
> It's going to be a short ficlet, most likely only one or two more chapters after this one.
> 
> Since no one knows what Domino City's legal system is like and I know next to nothing about the American one, the references I make aren't too detailed. Anything I choose to describe is based on the German legal system.

The faux-mahogany desk seemed too big for the small room that was reserved for attorneys to have some privacy while speaking with their clients. Its bulkiness created a sense of both physical and emotional distance between you and the young blond man sitting across from you. The ceiling lamp threw a wan light from above, not quite strong enough to illuminate the room. It barely sufficed for you to be able to read the file spread out in front of you.

Neither you nor he had said a word since the both of you had sat down. You knew that you were in the position to open this rather uncomfortable conversation. Looking towards the window, you noticed that although it was no later than 4 p.m., dawn was beginning to fall upon the city. It had been snowing all day. You shivered at the thought of having to step out there later tonight. Taking a deep breath, you focused on the blonde you were going to be spending quite some time with over the next few weeks.

“My name is [Full Name]. The court has appointed me to be your counsel for the defense in this case. I hope that our work together is going to work out well.” You mentally chastised yourself for using the same word twice within one sentence. He didn’t reply.

You decided to continue, knowing fully well he would have to be coaxed into opening up to you. They always had to be. The young men whose defense you had recently been assigned all came down to the same type. Born or fallen into lower class, poverty-stricken, no direction in life. Too young or immature to realize the consequences of their actions. They weren’t always guilty, they just fell into the wrong social stratum. Most of the time, they eventually turned out to be rather harmless. You were curious as to whether this one would confirm your personal statistic.

“I only recently received my certificate. Admittedly, I am not an experienced lawyer. I promise to represent you to the best of my knowledge, however.” You had said these words in this exact order too many times for your own liking. While you realized that you needed the experience you could gain from acting as someone’s appointed counsel, you could hardly wait for the day when you would be a respectable lawyer and get to be part of more interesting cases than this one.

“Let’s go over your personal information.” You tried to lock eyes with him once more, to no avail. He was leaning back in the wooden chair you had offered him for lack of a better option. His arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, he was stubbornly avoiding your gaze by staring out the window. Despite his pose signaling callousness, you could not help but think that he seemed vulnerable in a way. More like a victim than like a criminal.

“Your name is Joseph Wheeler. Correct?” Looking up, your eyes caught his for the briefest moment before he looked away again. There was no other movement and still no word being said on his part, which you took as a cue to continue.

“Born on the 25th of January. Sixteen years of age.” You hesitated for a moment. Sixteen? It was obvious when looking at him that he was young, but that young? You shrugged mentally. It didn’t matter after all.

Things continued that way for a while – you reading out his information, him not objecting. Eventually, you came to the point when you would have to go over his charge. It felt like you had been sitting in this room together for an eternity, yet it had only been about twenty minutes. You got up to fetch a bottle of water and two glasses. When you returned, he was still staring outside, sitting in the same position you had left him in a few minutes earlier.

You took a sip of water before you continued to read out loud what the sheet in front of you said.

“You are being accused of grievous bodily harm, grievous because it was inflicted with a weapon. A switchblade knife. The blade is three-and-a-half inches long, the weapon has been secured as a piece of evidence. The victim is…” You hesitated for a moment. “Keith Howard.” You sighed.

Looking up, you were finally able to catch the eyes of the young man sitting across from you. In his eyes, the question why you had paused was evident.

“He’s a known delinquent and member of a local gang.” You didn’t know that what you were saying was not exactly news to him. “I’m getting the feeling that there is more to this than a boy randomly attacking a stranger in the street.” His frown deepened for a split second when you called him a ‘boy’.

“Joseph… Is it okay if I call you that?” It was a rhetorical question and you were about to continue when he decided to speak to you for the first time.

“It’s Joey. No one ‘cept my father calls me ‘Joseph’. I don’t like it.” On the outside, you smiled at him politely, while on the inside, you felt downright happy to finally get a reaction out of him. His voice was deep for his age. You liked it.

“Well, Joey, your file tells me that you chose not to testify when the police asked you to. Is there a reason for that?”

He uncrossed his arms, seemingly unsure of what to do with his limbs for a moment. He then folded his hands in his lap. Looking down at them, he began to speak to you.

“They wouldn’t listen to me. I’ve been there before. I guess they thought once a felon, always a felon. They wouldn’t’ve believed me anyways.”

You looked through the information you had on him, finding no register of former crimes. He had been involved in investigations before, but he had never been accused of any wrongdoing himself.

“You’ve only ever been summoned as a witness, never as a suspect or defendant,” you observed.

“Yeah. But that doesn’t stop the people from thinking I’m bad news, does it?”

“Touché.” You gave him a nod, to which he responded with a dejected smile. You thought to yourself that he no longer looked like a stoic teenager, but a lot more detached all of a sudden.

“However, I’ll need you to tell me about what happened that night. Else I won’t know how to defend you. We need to work together to make sure your verdict is going to be just. Usually, I would tell you that we have some hope the proceedings might be stopped. The thing is, I don’t want to lie to you.”

He nodded.

“It seems that the evidence is solid enough – the wound has been recorded, the knife secured –, so the probability for the proceedings to be stopped is next to nonexistent. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that my intuition is telling me that you’re not the guilty party here.” You looked into his eyes deeply. What you saw there was a mixture of surprise and the slightest hint of gratitude. You smiled and he cast his eyes downwards.

You could feel yourself becoming slightly excited. This was, against all odds, not the same old kind of case you had been trusted with so far. No, this was not like the all the shopliftings, forgeries of documents – preferably IDs – or libels you had had to deal with up until now. This was an actual case that would allow you to show what you had been taught in law school. It was you chance to take the first step towards making a name for yourself.

“I’ll repeat what I told you before. I’m going to represent you, and I will do my best. Now, will you tell me what happened on the night of September 13th?”

And thus, he began.

* * *

Three hours later, you were still inside the courthouse, brooding over the case that was going to keep you busy from now on. The boy – Joey – had left almost an hour ago, after having told you every last detail about the events from his perspective. It had become clear as day to you that he was innocent, at least as innocent as someone who harmed a man in self-defense could be.

_A sixteen-year-old on his way home from a friend’s. A gang member, known for his affinity for gratuitous violence, heading him off. The two know each other from an event called the Duelist Kingdom, a tournament for players of a card game called Duel Monsters._

God, you were too old for this. The things kids got passionate about these days.

_The older man is drunk, his discernment limited. He blames the teenager for his loss at the tournament as well as his own inability to ‘get back in the game’ and wants him to hand over his famous deck._

You had to remind yourself that however ridiculous this seemed to you, your personal evaluation had nothing to do with the fact that you were working on a serious case here.

_The younger man refuses and a physical fight commences. Soon, the fist-fight evolves into something more as the attacker draws a switchblade knife. Through a combination of luck and skill, the attacked manages to fend off the assault, accidentally sinking the knife into the assailant’s upper chest, between the right shoulder blade and the first rib. In passing, an uninvolved pedestrian notices the situation and calls an ambulance which arrives a few minutes later along with the police. After being given first aid, the offender, who is actually the victim, is taken to the police station. Because he refuses to testify, without further ado, he is charged for grievous bodily harm._

It was a story ripe for the movies, really. You sighed, clenching your fists. How could your colleagues from the police force have made such thoroughly stupid decisions? Why hadn’t they simply let the ambulance take Joey to the hospital along with the victim-in-fact-offender? Then you would have a medical report now that would prove that his injuries had been typical for someone acting in self-defense. Instead, you had nothing except for his testimony to build a case on.

You had never hated the court’s usual procedure as much as you did right then. The night it had happened lay almost three months in the past. His wounds had healed, no scars had been left. You sighed once more, noticing it was almost 7 p.m. by now and so dark outside the sun might as well be planning never to rise again.

Giving a call to the Domino City Central Hospital, it took you no more than seven minutes to find out which paramedics had been on duty the night of September 13th. You called them in for an interrogation for the next afternoon. Already determined to win this case, you decided to head home and catch some sleep so you would be prepared for tomorrow.

* * *

Leaving the courthouse, you took a turn to the left. On the way to the parking lot, like each day, you passed the next bus stop. When you caught sight of a figure sitting on the bench there, you halted. To your surprise, it was none other than your newest client.

“Joey?” you wondered out loud. “What are you still doing here?”

“My bus is late.” He mumbled. You could see that he was trying to hide how cold he was. It was about fifteen degrees Fahrenheit and he was not even wearing a scarf.

“Well, when was it supposed to come?”

“About half an hour ago.”

“I reckon it’s not going to come at all then.” You wiped some snow off the bench with your arm before sitting down next to him. Reaching into your coat pocket, you pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Thanks for the encouragement.” You laughed lightly at his sarcasm. He looked over and you noticed his gaze lingering on the small package in your hands. You realized that he was either too polite or too shy to ask.

“Aren’t you a little too young to smoke?” you teased, at the same time opening the pack and offering it to him. He took one, by now having understood that you were not saying this kind of thing in an attempt to put him down.

“How old are you anyways, if you keep saying that kind of thing?” He noticed you struggling with your gloves and the lighter. Taking it from your hands, he got it to work at the first try. He lit your cigarette first, then his own.

You exhaled a cloud of smoke, its size amplified by the cold air.

“I’m twenty-six. Just finished law school this year.”

“You’re not as old as you’re making yourself sound.”

“Dealing with clients your age all the time makes me feel that way sometimes.”

Silence fell over the both of you for a long moment. When you noticed you had almost reached the filter of your cigarette, you let it fall to the ground and stomped on it. You were a fast smoker; always had been.

Looking over at Joey, who had a few drags left of his own cancer stick, you remembered that his bus was not coming.

“Tell me where you live and I’ll give you a ride.”

“That’s not necessary, I mean –” He paused, seeming to remember that his possible choices were to either accept your offer or walk home. He looked down.

“That’d be very nice of you.”

* * *

He lived all the way on the other side of the city. It was quite the long way round for you, but you decided not to complain. The boy had been through enough today. You were almost glad you had decided to drive him home, although the neighborhood he lived in was not exactly a favorable one.

“So, here we are.” You pulled up on the snow-covered sidewalk in front of a run-down apartment building. Pulling the stick-shift into neutral gear, you turned towards him.

“Just remember not to worry too much about this case. Eventually, justice always wins.” You were painting a picture much brighter than reality for him. Perhaps you partially wanted to convince yourself as well that this was going to be an easy victory. It was not.

He seemed to realize that things did not look quite as lovely as you were trying to make him believe. Shaking his head slowly, he smiled at you.

“Thanks for representing me, Miss [Last Name]. And also thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll call you when I need you, okay?”

He opened the passenger door and stepped outside.

“Okay.” The door fell shut. 

You shifted into first gear and drove off.

For some reason, you already felt a certain kind of protectiveness and responsibility towards him, the kind you had not felt for any of your clients so far. With that thought in the back of your mind, you decided it would only make you want to win this case even more.

And after all, that could not be such a bad thing.


	2. Process

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> I am so happy this was able to yield such positive responses! Thank you to the three people who took the time to review the first part.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this second one. There will be one more after this, I've decided. This is turning out to be kind of a reflection on the raison-d'être of a legal system as well. |D
> 
> Reviews make an author happy! ;)

A week later, you arrived at the café across the street from the courthouse to find Joey already waiting for you.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late,” you said, out of breath. You had run the last five-hundred meters because you had not wanted to arrive even later. Taking off you coat, scarf and gloves, all covered in snowflakes, you sat down on the other side of the window table.

“It’s fine, I just got here, too.” Judging from the half-empty glass sitting in front of him, he was lying.

“You know, I’d ask you to meet me in my fancy office. The only problem is that I’m a lowly little attorney and… I don’t have one.” He laughed despite the fact that your joke hadn’t been all that funny, which made you smile.

“So, this will have to do. Let’s get to business right away.” You pulled his file, whose size had grown considerably since the last time you had seen each other, from your bag.

“I called in the paramedics that were present and performed first aid before you were apprehended and brought to the police station that night. I questioned them separately. Two of them were still able to give rather detailed descriptions of your injuries.” You took out the notes you had taken while interrogating both of them.

“Which is good because…?” He left the sentence hanging in the air with a question mark.

“…because they described several injuries that are typical for someone defending themselves. Scratches, bruises and cuts on your hands, especially on their insides. The same on the upper side of your lower arms and the outer side of your upper arms. Apart from that, only injuries that clearly stem from attacks that were intended to harm you.”

A waiter stopped at your table and set a cup of black coffee in front of you – you had become a regular guest here over the course of the past few months. The personnel had soon realized that you never drank anything else. You flashed the server a grateful smile. As soon as he had left, you returned your attention to the young blond man sitting across from you, still sipping from his small glass of water.

“That’s not enough to prove I didn’t attack him though, is it?” The skeptical look on his face did not suit him at all in your opinion. Nonetheless, he was right.

“Of course not. But I was able to convince both of them to testify at the court hearing next week. Which reminds me, the court hearing is next Wednesday. We will have to meet once or twice more in advance to go over what you are going to say in there.”

“Fine by me.”

“I’m glad.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, silently stating that even if it had not been ‘fine by him’, you would have expected him to agree anyways. He honored this with a chuckle. Normally you would not have accepted anybody undermining your authority like this. However, the way he did it, it seemed weirdly okay to you. Perhaps it was the fact that he did it without coming off as insulting.

“Moving on. I got my hands on the medical report concerning Keith Howard from the night of September 13th. It adds up perfectly – apart from the stab wound, he didn’t have any serious injuries. Any other fresh bruises were ones that could believably have been caused by someone acting in self-defense. Apart from that, the doctors recorded many cuts and bruises that were older and that suggest that his past as member of a gang is not quite as ‘past’ as he’d like to make the court believe.”

“Isn’t it kinda weird though for you to name his medical file as evidence? I mean, he’s the one trying to make me the bad guy in the first place. And I’d bet that that report’s the one thing the prosecutor’s holding onto like a treasure of gold.”

“Meaning we won’t have to move a single finger for it be brought up at the hearing. The opposite side will gladly do so for us and – if everything goes according to plan – dig its own grave that way.”

“I just have one more question, Miss [Last Name].”

It sounded weird to you whenever he addressed you like this. You were once more forced to remind yourself that although the both of you were on the same side and even joked around at times, you were a person of authority to him. He made it harder to stay professional than any of your other clients had.

“Then ask.”

“If the case is as simple as you’re trying to make it seem, why am I being accused in the first place?” His brows were furrowed, the look in his eyes strong as they locked with yours.

A small, kind of detached smile formed on your face. How old had you been when you had first seen yourself confronted with the realization that the legal system had its fair share of faults, some worse than others? Definitely older than he was now, that much you remembered.

“It’s because even in the self-complacent world of law, mistakes happen. In this case, the policemen made two grave ones. One of them was to take you to the station when you should have been examined at the hospital. That’s why we don’t have sufficient recordings of your injuries. The other mistake was to consequently charge you for a crime based on evidence that was lacking.”

You reached across the table and laid your hand on top of his. In the place of the positively impulsive young man that had been with you until now, the vulnerable child had returned.

“One more thing, Joey. Don’t make the mistake to confuse ‘law’ and ‘justice’. The two will never have the same meaning. But I promise you that when we step out of that courthouse next Wednesday, justice will have been served.”

Your gaze wandered out the window towards the impressive building across the street. While your thoughts were drifting off, you did not notice that your hand was still resting on top of his.

He, however, did. He also noticed that for the first time, rather than professionally reassuring him, you had made a personal promise to him.

* * *

“I’m sorry I had to ask you to meet me at such a late hour,” you said, referring to that fact that it was half past seven in the evening on a Monday night. “I would’ve preferred another time, but the hearing is the day after tomorrow and I wanted to give you a day to mentally prepare for it.”

“It’s okay.” Joey did not seem to be especially tired. “So, how am I supposed to act in court? What am I going to say?”

You were glad he wanted to get to the point right away. Today had been a long day for you, and there was no place on earth you would have rather been in right now than in your soft, warm bed.

“First off, remember to be calm. You’re innocent, ergo it’s impossible to prove you guilty.” You locked eyes with him. It was times like these, when his gaze was strong with courage and determination, when you thought that he must be a lot more mature and certain in life than you had been at his age.

“Second, you testimony needs to be thorough and complete. Make it detailed, so the opposition will have to try hard to even think of further questions they could ask you. You have nothing to hide. If you are asked to give more information anyways, do so. I don’t know how clear you still are on the details of the night. If you don’t remember something, say so. That’s still a hundred times better than to claim something that might not actually have been that way.”

“I think I remember pretty much everything. Detailed, too.” He smiled slightly, but confidently.

“Now, aren’t you just the most enjoyable client I’ve had?”

For a moment, he did not know how to react to your rhetorical question, unsure whether you had meant to be sarcastic or not. You quickly broke the awkwardness by laughing. He couldn’t help but join in; there was a certain kind of honesty about your laugh that sent shivers down his spine in the most positive way.

“I’m serious, though. I like working with you. It might be because you’re the first client I’ve had whose innocence I’m certain about.”

“Can I ask you something?” You were struck by a déjà-vu. Hadn’t he asked you this before?

“Sure.”

“How do you defend someone if you think they might actually be guilty?”

Without knowing, he had stumbled upon a moral conflict that had plagued your mind for years before you had come to the decision to become a defense attorney. It was a very personal topic to you, and you could almost feel yourself becoming defensive before you realized that he, of course, had no possibility of knowing how sensitive a spot his question had hit. And actually, why not tell him? You supposed few people ever thought about the moral implications of defending a potential criminal. He deserved an answer.

“It gets difficult at times. I often wonder what might happen if someone guilty were to leave court unscathed because of me. Would I be able to live with that? But I think that, to resolve this conflict, you have to let go of the assumption that it’s an attorney’s goal to have their client cleared of all charges. Actually, my goal is to achieve an outcome that is just.

“If someone deserves to be punished, they will be. In that case, I’m there to make sure their punishment is fair and doesn’t go too far. If my client is wrongly accused of a crime, however…” You were attempting to circle back to the matter at hand, realizing that your explanation might have become a taste too personal. “I’ll do anything to prove it.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” He’d seen right through you.

You nodded, wondering why you were feeling as though you had been caught red-handed. The equilibrium in your relationship had shifted, and all of a sudden, you had become the one seeking his approval.

“Let’s talk about this some other time. We still have a lot left to clarify.” Postponing personal topics to a later meeting that might end up never happening seemed like the best way to get out of this conversation without making things awkward.

And for another hour or two, the both of you designed a perfect hypothetical hearing for Wednesday.

* * *

“Would you care for a ride home?” you asked as you left the courthouse together. Today, you had arranged the meeting in the same tiny room you had first spoken to Joey in. While you preferred the atmosphere of public cafés, you had also picked up on the fact that he didn’t seem comfortable with spending unnecessary amounts of money.

“Sure. Thanks for always being so nice to me.” He smiled down at you as you walked towards the parking lot. You felt a sudden inclination to reach up and ruffle his hair affectionately, but did not give into it.

Life immediately decided to punish you for your momentary lack of attention. Before you knew it, you had slipped on an icy spot and found yourself on the ground, a strong sensation of pain pulsing in your right ankle.

“Shit!” you yelled, repeating the same word more quietly numerous times as you grabbed and held onto your limb.

“Are you okay?” Joey squatted down next to you, worry evident in his voice.

You in- and exhaled a few times in an attempt to even your breathing before answering. Otherwise you might have snapped at him, which he obviously did not deserve.

“No, I… I think I might have sprained my ankle. I need to see a doctor.” You tried to get your thoughts in order so you would be able to decide what to do.

“Do you have a license, Joey?” He seemed bewildered by your question, but nodded. “The next hospital is about a mile from here. You will have to drive.”

“Okay.” Taking the keys you were holding out to him from your hand, he went on to help you up from the ground.

With his support, it only took you about five minutes to get to your car. He had offered to carry you, but you had declined. While it would have certainly been very knightly of him, it would have been just as ridiculous.

* * *

You had been right – your ankle was, in fact, sprained. The doctor had told you to stay in the waiting room while preparations were made to x-ray your foot. You had already been given strong painkillers and now they wanted to make sure you had not fractured any bone.

It seemed to be a quiet night at the hospital. There was no one except for Joey and you in the emergency ward. You tried to suppress a yawn, but failed. It had become late and the pain had done its part to exhaust you.

“I’m sorry you had to put up with this.” Your voice was quiet. You wanted so badly to be able to sleep.

“I don’t mind. And I assume you didn’t hurt yourself on purpose.”

You shook your head no and smiled wearily. Then you did something you probably would not have done had you not been so exhausted both physically and mentally. You moved a little closer to Joey and put your head on his shoulder.

He stiffened noticeably for a second, but did not seem to mind. Instead, he hesitantly moved his arm from in-between your bodies and put it around you, making your position more comfortable for both of you.

You closed your eyes, thinking about how nice this closeness felt and how much you liked the scent of his neck.


End file.
